Trickster's Choice
by WestPointHUAH
Summary: This is my take on how things would turn out if Aly was sold to the palace with-out Kyprioth's help. Adventures and intrigue abound!
1. Prologue

Okay, so the story starts with Aly in the slave pens of Rajmuat, just like in Trickster's Choice. She's already ran away and been captured, etc. Obviously the only thing that's mine is the plot—the rest is Tamora Pierce's. Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 1

Aly sat in the corner of the stall, legs tucked under her chin and arms wrapped. She looked as timid as any cowed slave, but her mind ticked steadily. Her position had some complications to it: first, her slave collar proved to be a challenging obstacle. Unless she could seduce one of the guards, she wasn't going anywhere outside the slave pen. Fat chance of that happening, what with her shorn head and the stories her captors had shared after selling her. Plus, the "merchants" wanted to sell her quick as a prostitute before the food shortage changed her figure.

Of course, she had no intentions of that happening. To this end, she had eaten little of the thin porridge fed to her group each day. And she still had on last trick up her sleeve.

Once she sabotaged the merchants' plans, she hoped to be sold to the palace. The place was so huge a girl of her skills could easily go unnoticed. Escape would be easy, a little pathetic even. No, she planned on sticking around for a little while. Sure, Da would be furious that she hadn't come right back home, but how often does a spy get the chance to _live_ in the same place as two of the most catalytic people in the Southern Region? Couriers often let slip interesting tidbits around slaves—they hardly counted as people to the luarin nobility. Once she had learned something truly useful, Aly would return home with proof she could handle being a field spy. It was a good plan.

Now all she had to do was play her cards right.

When the guards came that evening with dinner, Aly threw herself into the melee of starving slaves. She fended off most of the blows with close-quarters combat skills, but endured the small scrapes and jabs. Suddenly, something_ very_ solid hit the back of her head. Dazed, she didn't notice the ham-sized fist until it shoved her nose into the back of her skull. The world went black.

When she awoke, Aly was staring into the eyes of the kindly woman from her stall. She tried to move to a more comfortable position, but her wrists were locked into shackles above her head in the wall.

"What happened?" She croaked through her dry throat. She made a wry face, but gasped in pain as her nose suddenly lit on fire.

"Don't worry, dearie," began the woman. "You took a knock to your nose and got knock out. I got one of the guards to heal you a bit—you were in bad shape." She tried to smile sympathetically, but it looked more like a grimace. "The merchant saw the aftermath. Obviously none of the others would own up to damaging his 'property,' so he's marked you as trouble. You'll have a hard time avoiding Obedience Training now."

"Sounds awful. How long was I out?" Aly asked.

"Two days. You missed Market Day. Another week—at least—in the pens for you."

"So did you."

"Who wants an old hag like me? Your kind are the price-fetchers. Besides, I could ask the same of you. I watched you. You just waded right into the thick of things. Surely you're not as stupid as it looked."

"I didn't want someone to buy me as a bed-warmer," Aly explained. "If I didn't do anything, that's probably where I'd be right now. Guess my plan worked to perfection and beyond, huh?"

"You are a mystery! Bed-warmers are fed and taken care of. No, I can see it's no use to argue with you. Tortallans, holy Mithros' shield. Can't be argued with," she explained. "Here, why don't you get some rest? I'm probably not supposed to be with you, but I'll save a bit of dinner for you." She turned to go. "By the way, my name is Elaine."

"Thanks Elaine," was all Aly could mumble before the woman left her range of vision. Finally left alone, she took inventory of her situation. Her nose was obviously broken, and would heal crooked unless she could reach it with her hands. No go there. She also had a lump on the back of her head preventing her from resting it on the wall behind her and a broken wrist. Her chains were short enough that she couldn't touch her hands and the locks were impossible to undo one-handed. _Great_, she thought. _I get put in shackles Myles _designed_, for heaven's sake, and I can't turn my wrist to undo the lock. I guess I'm stuck here until the guards decide to let me out._ She drifted into an uneasy sleep.


End file.
